Hearing Damage
by chellynnb
Summary: Justified/Sons of Anarchy crossover. Tim Gutterson handles a brutal case and meets a new resident and doctor in Kentucky, Tara Knowles.
1. Steady Hands

"Tim! What the hell happened?!" Art stormed through the fluorescent-lit hospital hall, eyes widened in anger. Tim sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, not sure how to explain how a typical fed chase went this way.

"I went to follow up with the girlfriend, and David Reid was there," Tim recalled recognizing the fugitive's face when he walked in, seeing him press a gun to the woman's head. "She had a baby, Art. Obviously just a few weeks old, wasn't being taken care of at all."

"So you shot him?"

"He moved his gun's direction to the baby, and I didn't hesitate," Tim quickly answered, his teeth almost gritting. "She's being seen right now, so is the mother."

Art laid a hand on Tim's shoulder and nodded. "You did the right thing."

"I know," Tim replied, brushing a hand through is dark-blonde hair. He took a seat in one of the cold, faded green chairs. Art offered to get them both coffee. He mumbled a 'yeah' and his boss went towards the elevator. Tim drummed his fingers against his left knee, waiting for updates. He kept picturing David's cold body on the ground, the girlfriend screaming and crawling towards him, and the infant, tired and crying.

* * *

"You're going to be just fine," Tara whispered as she laid her hand on the baby's stomach as she slept. She checked the IV for the third time, making sure the proper nutrients were being given.

Tara had just transferred to Saint Joseph in Lexington the week before, and this was her first emergency case. The details baffled her, a fugitive and his girlfriend were mistreating their child, who arrived severely malnourished. Tara assumed if another day, maybe two, passed, she would have been dead.

"Dr. Harris, can you stay in the room? I'm going to talk to the marshal who brought her in," Tara asked her fellow surgeon, who obliged without question.

Tara removed her latex gloves, washed her hands, and headed towards the hall. She immediately noticed the Marshal, slouching in a visitor chair. He wore faded jeans with a dark navy Henley under a black jacket. Tara thought he was quite handsome, but shoved that natural reaction to the back of her mind and focused on the patient.

He quickly stood when noticing the brunette doctor. Tara felt much sympathy for him, seeing the great concern in the Marshal's face. She thought it might not have only been about the baby she cared for today.

"She's very exhausted, severely malnourished, but she will be fine. I can't say the same for if you found her a day later. You saved her life, Deputy—"

"Tim Gutterson. Thank you, doc." He sighed in relief, smiling. Tara couldn't help but grin herself, seeing the light in his face.

"Tara Knowles," She extended her right arm, and they shook hands.

"Anything about the mother?"

Tara shook her head, aggravated by the thought. "She's been screaming and crying for the past hour, hasn't even acknowledged her child's condition. She keeps asking where David is. Who's David?"

"He was her boyfriend. He pointed a gun at that little girl. I shot him," Tim said as he broke away from eye contact with the young doctor.

"Good," Tara quickly responded.

Tim quickly met her eyes again. Tara assumed he was checking to see if she really meant that, and she sure as hell did.

* * *

"Is this the good doctor?" Tim's boss walked up to them and stood beside him, handing him a hot styrofoam cup. "I'm Chief Deputy Art Mullen, ma'am. And this is Deputy Marshal Tim—"

"Already acquainted, Art." Tim said, still looking at the doctor. She wore mint green scrubs, and her dark hair was up in a clip. She looked young, and very pretty, to be a doctor or a surgeon. _Hell, whatever the difference is here._

"I'm Dr. Tara Knowles," she said while shaking Art's hand. "She will be in the hospital for a few weeks, at least. I'll personally be taking care of her, if you need to follow up for any reason."

"Thank you, Dr. Knowles. We appreciate that,"

Art's cell phone then rang from his pocket. He saw the caller ID and sighed, mumbling to Tim that it was the office. "Be prepared for a shitload of paperwork," he said before excusing himself.

"I'm want to stay for a few more hours, doc, if that's okay. I just want to make sure she's going to be fine," Tim said.

"Of course, that's very kind of you," The doctor replied.

Tim again sat in the uncomfortable chair, and much to his surprise, she sat right beside him. He couldn't say it bothered him, but he was actually pleased. Again, she was very pretty, and the intensity in her green eyes when finding out he shot the fugitive was something he couldn't get out of his head.

"This must be a normal day for you," she said, leaning back in her chair.

"Sometimes. This was a pretty wild one, though," Tim replied, leaning back to her level. "Being a Deputy Marshal in Kentucky can have its moments." He thought of the shot he took a few weeks back, when a man held a gun towards a pregnant woman's belly. Tim didn't hesitate, and didn't miss.

"I just transferred here from Chicago. I'm still learning the ropes."

"What brought you to greener pastures?" Tim asked with a smirk.

"It was this or California. Seemed like the better choice," Tim could see the thought made her uncomfortable as she quickly changed topic. "I can see this child being okay means a lot to you."

"I've dealt with a lot of dying children," Tim said, flashing back to somewhere he never wanted to revisit.

"As a Marshal?"

"As a sniper," Tim cleared his throat, "Served in Afghanistan and Iraq."

"I can't imagine," Tara said, leaning forward.

"Yeah, well, look what you do. I can't imagine that either," Tim said.

"Snipers have steady hands, I would hope. You could probably manage," Tara replied with a grin. Tim shrugged and smiled, appreciating her quick wit.

"Well, I better get back to work," Tara sighed and stood up.

"Doc, here. If anything changes with her after today," Tim held out a card from his jacket pocket, "You can call anytime."

"Thanks, Marshal." Tara took the card and placed it in one of her pockets, "Her name is Abigail, just in case you were wondering."

Tim nodded and leaned back in his chair. Tara walked towards the floor's main desk, but noticed a nurse near her drop several files. She bent down to help her, and Tim noticed something on her lower back as the doctor's top rose up. He felt rude staring, but wanted to figure out what the tattoo was. Just when he could decipher the shape, Tara stood back up and quickly pulled her top back down. Tim wasn't only enchanted by the beautiful doctor, but now also curious.

_A crow? _


	2. A Few Stitches

"Any update on the Reid case?"

Raylan, much to Tim's dismay, sat on the corner of Tim's desk. He even put forth the effort to move a few of Tim's files to make room.

Tim still felt a little uneasy about Raylan Givens, knowing how much trouble he has caused in the past several months of working in the Lexington office. Whenever a certain vein on Art's forehead popped out, Tim knew most of the time the Harlan-based marshal was the cause. He even joked about it to Art before, calling it the 'Raylan-vein,' in which he then received a lecture about being a smartass.

"Please, make yourself welcome. And it must be Christmas, with you taking a liking to my cases," Tim joked, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm feeling generous today," Raylan replied. _Probably because you arrived here with a certain ex-wife. _Tim knew to keep the comment to himself.

"Everything's fine. Reid's in the ground and the girlfriend is probably not looking so hot in that bright orange jumpsuit. I got a call from the hospital this morning, the baby girl is still there. Should be fine. Not sure though, coming from parents like that."

"She's not going to remember a lick of it. Besides, my father's a criminal, and look at me," Raylan said with a smirk.

"That's assuring. Luckily I think that little one already has more sense than you."

Raylan laughed at the young marshal's quick wit and took off his hat, resting it on his lap. Tim sighed, seeing he wasn't planning on ending the conversation so soon.

"Art told me the doctor who helped her was mighty pretty," Raylan said.

"Mhm," Tim replied, focusing on his computer screen.

"Is she the one that called you this morning?" Raylan fished for more information.

"Sorry, Raylan. She's a doctor and currently not a witness in any cases, so she's probably out of your league. Can I get back to work?" Tim sighed, and Raylan nodded and stood up from the desk, making his way back to his own.

Tara in fact was the one who called Tim that morning, giving him an update on Abigail. He was relieved, knowing she was still okay and now taking in the proper nutrients. The doctor sounded very passionate about her work, which he respected. Tim felt like he was in high school, hoping she would call him again.

* * *

"Who was that?" Dr. Harris asked Tara as she hung up the main desk's phone. She was Tara's favorite doctor at the hospital, always friendly, offering to buy coffee and making her transition easier; however, she's also always wanting to know what was going on in others' lives.

"The Deputy Marshal we saw last week. I was updating him on the patient," Tara quickly answered.

It was the truth, she called Tim to let him know how Abigail was doing. She thought in his line of work, he could use the good news. She asked him about the mother, who was looking at a long stretch in prison for a handful of crimes. Tara enjoyed hearing the marshal's voice again, appreciating the sigh of relief he gave knowing the baby girl was going to be okay.

"That's what I came over here for. A woman downstairs wants to speak to you about Abigail. She's claiming it's her granddaughter," The redheaded doctor's blue eyes widened, "She's causing a shit storm down there."

Tara took a deep breath and made her way to the elevator. Child Services had been very strict about Abigail's case, and hadn't given the hospital much detail about relatives. Her health was the main focus, and Tara wouldn't let anyone compromise that. In the elevator, she cleared her throat and smoothed out her white lab coat, remembering to stay professional.

"I'm Dr. Tara Knowles, you needed to speak to me?" Tara said as she walked up to the disgruntled woman. She wore a brown leather jacket and faded jeans, and stood with her hands on her hips. Tara was ready for her start shouting at any moment.

"You got my granddaughter up there, and I don't know nothing about what's going on! My son is dead, and I am being kept away from my Abigail?!" The woman was inches away from Tara's face. Her breath reeked of cigarettes and bourbon.

"Ma'am, I am not authorized to share any information on the patient. I can give you the number for Child Services and they can—" Before finishing her sentence, the woman punched the doctor, causing her to stumble back. Tara placed her left hand on the wounded cheek. She felt warm blood below her eye from where the one of the woman's gaudy silver rings must have cut her.

"You can't keep her from me, you bitch! I will have my grandbaby back!" Two security officers held her on the ground as she screamed and kicked.

"You're obviously drunk and just assaulted a doctor," Tara sharply replied, "Don't count on it."

* * *

"Marshal's office, Tim Gutterson,"

Tim answered the phone, resting it between his ear and shoulder as she shoved files back in one of the desk drawers.

"Tim, it's Tara," He immediately recognized the voice. By reflex, he was happy to hear her speak, but then quickly thought of the reasons why she called.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen to—"

"No, she's fine. Her grandmother came in today. She's David Reid's mother. She was drunk and angry, demanding to see her. She even clocked me in the face."

"She hit you?"

"Yeah, I'm fine though. It wasn't even her punch that fucked me up, but one of her rings. A few stitches and I'm back together again," Tim could almost hear her smile.

"That's precisely why I don't buy women jewelry," he said, hoping to hear her laugh at the comment. She did, and he did his best to keep himself from smiling, noticing Raylan eyeing him.

"I'm worried, though," Tara said once she caught her breath, "I don't want Abigail to end up with her. I don't think it could happen, but you never know."

"I don't think you need to worry, but I will keep up with her case and see what I can do if that worst case scenario plays out."

"Thank you, Tim," Tara gave a sigh of relief.

"You're welcome, doc. If you're free tonight, I'd like to get you a beer."

* * *

"So what made you want to become a doctor?" Tim asked as he set their second round of beers on the small, wooden table The bar was crowded for a Wednesday night, but they were able to find a tiny booth in the corner for themselves. Tim enjoyed the sight of her out of scrubs; Tara wore tight dark jeans that hugged every curve, and a black tank top. Her hair was down and straight.

_Should've known someone who can pull of those mint pj's would look sexy in anything._

"I don't know, really. I wasn't one of those kids who carried a play doctor set around. It just came to me during college. I wanted to help people, especially kids. Then I decided to go into neo-natal and prenatal care. It's amazing what I do. I can help them, I can fix a tiny heart. I'm happy with it."

Tara took a swig of her beer, noticing Tim's attentive expression.

"What about you? What makes someone want join the army then become a marshal?"

"Oh, I just like to shoot things," Tim winked and flashed a smile. Tara laughed again, something he enjoyed listening to.

"That sure is more interesting than my story," Tara said.

"Not to toot my own horn, doc, but I'm an interesting guy."

* * *

Tara and Tim stayed comfortably silent for a few minutes, drinking their beers and giving each other glances. She was very attracted to him, and enjoyed getting to know the marshal.

"You know, you do have that mysterious vibe working for you," Tara said to break the silence, "I look forward to getting to know you, Deputy Marshal Gutterson."

Tim smiled, sliding himself closer to Tara.

"You know, even on my best days I don't look as good as you do with that massive shiner," Tim said, lightly placing his hand on her bruised cheek, careful not to touch the deep cut.

Before she could reply, a waitress came up to their booth and handed Tara a small, folded paper. Tim moved his hand back, clearing his throat.

"I was asked to give this to you," The blonde said, walking away before Tara could thank her or ask what it was. She opened the paper, and froze when reading the words.

'_I'm in town for business, I swear. But I need to see you. I need to. –Josh'_

Tara quickly crumpled up the paper.

Tim arched an eyebrow at her reaction, "What was it?"

Tara rolled her eyes and smiled, "Some asshole in the bar had a waitress slip his number to me, can you believe that? While I'm on such a nice date, too. Don't worry about it,"

Before Tim could question it, she downed the rest of her beer and handed him the empty bottle, "Mind getting us another round?"

"As you wish, my lady," Tim winked and made his way to the bar.

Tara took the moment to eye the room, seeing if he was still watching her and Tim.

_Please don't do this to me. Please don't be here._


	3. No Distractions

_3:06 a.m._

Tim groaned at the time on his alarm clock, wishing he could sleep. He pushed the covers off of him and sat up. He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache due to restlessness coming on. Tim recalled how the night went before coming home two hours ago. He and Tara were downing beers left and right, laughing and talking. He kept staring into her dark green eyes and wishing he could kiss her. Hell, he was going to, until another asshole decided to hit on her.

_I wish he had the stones to do that up front. I would've kicked his ass._

Initially he didn't think Tara was too bothered, but she soon became tense. He noticed her eyes often shifting around whenever she thought Tim wasn't paying attention. Her pretty lips were tight and closed. She soon said she was exhausted and hated to wrap things up early. Tara kissed his cheek, Tim clearly remembered that. He could still smell her hair. Tim thought a girl's hair smelling like honey was a cliché from chick flicks and romance novels, but that young doctor proved otherwise.

Before he was even out of his groggy state, Tim found himself in front of his fridge, eyeing for a beer. Not much of anything was in the way: a few half empty styrofoam boxes and a gallon of milk occupying one of the three shelves. He closed the wasted the fridge and made his way to the black couch in the living room. He sunk into it, feeling for the television remote. Clicking the tv on, Tim scoffed.

_I'm sitting on my couch in my boxers, watching fucking infomercials at three in the morning. Awesome._

* * *

"There has to something I can do to get him to stop. I'm in Kentucky, for Christ's sake! How the fuck can he just show up in Kentucky? And there's no way it's for work. Fuck him, he can't do this to me again,"

Tara's hand was shaking so much she could barely hold the slim phone to her ear. She was lying on her bed, mascara running from crying. She looked over at the time – almost four in the morning.

"I don't know what to tell you, Tara. You've tried restraining orders. He's just going to get it waived. I swear I kept it quiet about your transfer," Tara could hear the anxiety in Melissa's voice.

Melissa attended medical school in Chicago with Tara, and they soon became close friends. Melissa never trusted John Kohn, and was the only confidant Tara had. She was always at Tara's side – when she filed repeatedly for restraining orders, when she needed a safe place to sleep, and when she needed someone to hold her hand at the abortion clinic.

"He has other ways of finding people," Tara muttered.

"Maybe he just had someone slip the note to you and left immediately. You were on a date with a marshal after all, probably scared the shit out of him."

"It's not like he was waving a badge and gun around,"

"How hot is he?" Tara envisioned Melissa winking while asking the question.

"Unbelievably."

"Any baggage?"

"I can't judge anyone with baggage, Melissa. Not with my shit."

"I told you just to make up a drunken story about the crow eater tattoo."

"I've asked you not to call it that," Tara said sharply.

"Sorry, sorry," Melissa stayed silent for minute, "Why didn't you just to go California, anyway? They could have helped."

"I can handle my own shit. I always have. There was nothing for me there. Kentucky may seem like a silly decision, but I think I can find my place here."

* * *

"Well, doc, I'm surprised to hear your voice," Tim said when he answered his cell, leaning back in his car seat.

"I know it's been a few days, and I feel incredibly guilty—"

"You're not calling to confess something, are you?"

Tara gave a small laugh on the other line.

"Yes, actually. I have to confess that our date didn't end the way I wish it did, and I would like to go out again."

"I'd like that, too. How about dinner this time?"

"Perfect. I can cook," Tara quickly answered.

"Saves me from making reservations at the finest restaurant in Lexington, if that exists," Tim enjoyed the thought of being around her with no one else in the room. No distractions. No slipped phone numbers.

"See you at my place at eight sharp, deputy marshal."

* * *

"So you're not a fan of well done steak, huh?" Tim said, cutting the meat in from of him to reveal a medium, pink center.

"Sorry, the rarer the better," Tara grinned while cutting her own across from him.

"Didn't think doctors approved of that."

"You don't see me serving it to babies, do you? But I can always put yours back on the stove until it's charcoal, if you'd like."

Tim laughed and shook his head, taking a big bite. They ate much of their meal in quiet, but he anticipated telling her the good news from that afternoon. Something he knew she'd take comfort in knowing.

"I thought you'd like to, uh, know that Abigail isn't going anywhere near her biological family. I talked to Child Services, and her grandma is nowhere near being a suitable guardian. When she's out of the hospital, she can be adopted. Apparently a few families are already interested,"

Tim loved seeing Tara's green eyes widen at the news. _Goddamn, she has the prettiest face._

"Thank you, Tim. That means so much to me. You're a good man," Tara placed her cloth napkin on the empty plate and got up from her seat, making eye contact with him the whole time.

Tim's back straightened as she walked up to him. He still sat in the chair, frozen from watching her.

"This is how I wanted our date to end," Tara said softly as she grabbed his hand, pulling for him to stand as well.

Tara pressed her lips against his, her arms around his neck. He returned the kiss, harder, and placed his hands on her lower back. He wanted to grasp every curve of her body as their mouths opened and the intensity grew. Tara pushed him against the wall, and they both laughed when catching their breath.

"Bedroom's down the hall," she whispered as his mouth trailed down lightly from her neck to her chest.

* * *

They could barely make it to the room, fumbling as they kicked off their shoes. Tara unbuttoned his shirt and quickly pushed it off, then allowed him to take off hers. Once there, Tara removed her jeans, making eye contact with him. He fucking loved it, and couldn't take his eyes off of her as she unhooked her bra and slid off her underwear, revealing every curve and crevice of her body that Tim dreamed of.

"You just going to stare?" Tara smirked.

"I was hopin' you would wear those sexy scrubs," Tim joked.

Tara playfully rolled her eyes, "Take off your pants." He obliged.

She pushed him on the bed, climbing on top of him. They kissed again, his hands exploring her body as she rubbed her hand on his cock, teasing his erection. Tara and Tim made eye contact again as she sunk into him, both giving small gasps. Tim continued kissing her hard on the neck, moving down to her breasts. Her skin was so soft; he thought he could never stop touching her.

Tim felt her muscles tighten around his cock as she rode him, and she wrapped her arms again around his neck, pulling his face closer to hers. He hadn't seen anything more beautiful. The touch of her skin, the warmth of her deep breaths, feeling himself inside her – he felt the intense pleasure in every inch of his body.

Tara rode him faster and faster, clenching him and moaning. Tim groaned and buried his face in her chest, their breaths quickening as they reached climax.

Tara rolled off of him and lay on her side, her hand resting on his chest. Both of them took a moment for their breaths to regulate.

"What are you thinking?" Tara asked him.

_That you're the first I've had in months, and I can't believe I'm in bed with you._


	4. Careful with That One

Tim heard the alarm on his phone go off, wishing he could just ignore it. The sun was peaking out from Tara's bedroom window. She was still asleep beside him, and he couldn't stop staring.

"Can you tell your phone to stop?" He heard her say without opening her eyes.

He smiled and removed the covers to retrieve his phone from his jeans pocket. Tim knew he would have to leave for work soon, so he went ahead and put his boxers and jeans back on. He heard Tara sit up from the bed and turned around, seeing the back of sitting on the other side of the bed. His eyes moved to her lower back, seeing the black crow tattoo. He couldn't say that was what he paid attention to last night.

"I can feel you staring," Tara said as she got up and walked to the dresser across her bed. "Aren't you going to ask me about it?"

"Not if you don't want me to," He said, watching her grab underwear and an oversized shirt from the top drawer.

"Remember how I told you I'm from California?" She spoke while dressing herself. "I was involved with some really bad people there. I was the ultimate cliché of a rebellious teenager. But that shit's behind me. Literally," Tara gave a small laugh to herself at her last sentence.

"That's not the part of your body I was focused on, doc," Tim said as he placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her. He rested his forehead on hers and smiled. "By the way, your face is healing up real nice."

Tara playfully hit him and walked out of the room. "You want some coffee?"

"I'm actually about to head out. Uncle Sam calls," Tim answered as he grabbed his shirt from the hall, putting it on and buttoning it up. He put on his shoes and followed her to the kitchen.

"I'm a true patriot, I can't keep you from your work," Tara finished pouring water in the machine and turned it on, then turned herself around to face Tim.

"When can I see you again?" Tim asked.

"How about tonight?" Tara said as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Works for me. I'll call you," he said as she kissed her once more before walking out the door.

* * *

Tim sat at his desk and tried focusing on the paperwork for his last case. He was furious with himself for thinking about Tara's tattoo again, curious of what bad shit she was involved with. The more he thought about it, he thought it could be gang related.

"Raylan," Tim turned his chair in the marshal's direction.

"Hmm?" Raylan kept his eye on his monitor, barely acknowledging Tim. It seemed the generous attitude was long gone.

"Have you ever seen a gang that has crows as a symbol?"

"No, don't think so. There was one in Florida, real nasty guys. Their symbol was a skull though, or something like that. I remember the ladies there having tattoos of crows."

"Remember the name?"

"Nope."

"Always the helpful one, Raylan."

_Don't do it, man. It doesn't matter._

Before he was even fully self-aware of his actions, Tara Knowles's file was on the computer screen. She was from a town called Charming. His eyes widened as he scrolled down to the criminal history section. She was arrested three times in 1996 for public intoxication, possession of alcohol as a minor, resisting law enforcement, the list went on. He looked up the man, Jax Teller, who she was arrested with every time. His record made Tara's look like one of a prized citizen. He was part of a motorcycle gang, Sons of Anarchy.

"Yeah, that was their name. Had a bunch of chapters around the states,"

Tim saw Raylan leaning in beside him, and immediately closed out of the file, only to reveal Tara's on the screen.

"Knowles? Isn't that the doctor—"

"You just pick and choose when to be helpful, don't you?"

"Careful with that one," Raylan said before he took a sip of his coffee.

"Your advice is dually noted."

As Raylan walked away, Tim took another look at her file. Scrolling down he saw Tara had filed for several restraining orders from one man - an ATF agent named Josh Kohn. Tim knew that name sounded familiar, he just couldn't place why.

"Shit," Tim exhaled and got up from his chair, making his way to Art's office.

"Art, who's that ATF agent investigating the Crowders?" Tim asked as he opened his boss's door.

"Kohn," Art answered, "He arrived a few days ago."

* * *

"Hey, come on in," Tara said with a smile after opening the door. She was excited to see Tim again, but the thrill faded when she saw his face. He looked worried.

Tara walked over to her fridge and grabbed two beers, twisting the tops off. She handed one to Tim. "Everything okay?"

"Let's sit," Tim said. They both made their way to the small table they had dinner on the night before. Tim took a strong swig of the beer and placed it on the table. She did the same.

"You're going to be pissed, and that's fine, but you have to know. I looked at your file today—"

"What the fuck, Tim?" Tara wanted to punch him; she felt betrayed and was furious.

"You can shit on me about it in a minute. I saw you tried putting restraining orders on some agent, Josh Kohn."

"What does that have to do with anything?" _Does he know about the note? Shit, what happens now?_

"He's in town, investigating a drug ring here,"

Tara kept her eyes away from his, and took another swig.

"Is he dangerous? Look, you don't have to tell me the whole story, but I need to know."

"I don't know. Maybe. I was in a relationship with him in Chicago. I ended it and he started stalking me. He never got violent, but it got scary. I put in a restraining order, but it never stuck. I would try another station, same shit happened," _I got pregnant and had an abortion, when he found out I thought he was going to kill me. I now sleep with a gun in my bedside table. _She couldn't tell him everything.

"Is that why you left Chicago?" Tim slid his chair closer to her.

"Yes. I wanted a fresh start," Tara groaned in frustration and buried her face in her hands. "He's the one who wrote that note."

"What?"

"The note from the fucking bar!" Tara placed her hands back down and saw Tim's eyes widen.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because part of me couldn't even believe it! I wasn't going to tell you on our first date, how the hell would I explain that?"

"I could have warned the office about this guy if I knew. I can help you, Tara."

"Warn them about what? There's no proof, nothing ever went through! I can take care of myself. I have this far," Tara leaned back in her chair, beer in hand.

Tim stayed silent as Tara grew more furious.

"Is that a routine for you? Fuck them then look up their records?" Tara wanted to avoid talking about Josh despite knowing he was the true problem.

"I really don't have an excuse. But now I'm glad I did. I'm going to keep on eye on that shithead, Tara."

Tara downed her beer and took the empty bottle to the kitchen. She slammed it on the counter, and then turned around to face Tim.

"Do what you have to do. I'll be fine," Tara said calmly.

Tim slowly approached her, and placed his lips on hers. He then wrapped his arms around her waist, tightly embracing her.

"I know," Tim said softly, and kissed her forehead.


End file.
